


Four Times Derek And Stiles Weren't Cuddling And One Time They Were

by polyamory



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Kelpies, M/M, Succubi & Incubi, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyamory/pseuds/polyamory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Derek and Stiles weren't cuddling and one time they were.</p>
<p>Or: the one where I try to write something while shamelessly overusing italics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Derek And Stiles Weren't Cuddling And One Time They Were

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the usage of the herbs Stiles uses in the first one:  
> Pepperwood is used for protection and to avoid being jinxed, hexed or poisoned  
> Hyssop is a purification herb for cleansing yourself  
> Thyme can bring peace of mind while sleeping

1.

Stiles startles awake, painfully alert, if still a little disoriented to what had suddenly pulled him out of his sweet, sweet dreams that absolutely were _not_ centered around a certain brooding alpha and his stubbled jaw line.

Nope, not at all.

A sharp intake of breath from the dark corner of his room has Stiles snapping his head in that direction and simultaneously reaching towards the head of his bed where he knows his bat must be. His fingers are already sliding over the smooth wood when he recognizes the dark shadow standing in the corner next to his window.

'Derek,' he breathes out, pulling his hand back and relaxing. 'You scared the shit out of me. I was seconds away from using you as a baseball. You know Allison taught me how to swing, right?'

Derek doesn't answer, doesn't even come out of his corner. And while normally he acts just the same, this is still _different_ somehow. Stiles just can't put his finger on it.

The next moment he's climbing out of bed and slowly making his way across the room, just like he'd seen Deaton do it with hurt dogs. And ok, maybe this isn't the right time for these kind of jokes but Stiles has a feeling Derek's letting his wolf side dominate a bit right now. So, better safe than sorry.

He sees his thoughts confirmed when he comes close enough to see Derek's hands clenched at his sides helplessly balled into fists, claws retracting and extending, seemingly without his consent.

Stiles reaches a hand out and Derek's lips pull back in a snarl, exposing his canines. Stiles drops his hand at once.

That is, until he catches sight of Derek's left shoulder.

His shirt is ripped, Stiles can just see the shredded edges, and there's blood drenching the area.

'Oh my god, you're hurt!' Stiles gasps, mindlessly reaching out for Derek again and gripping his right forearm. Derek releases a full on growl at that, his eyes flashing a menacing red, but Stiles brushes it away, already running on autopilot fueled by worry and adrenaline.

'I need to look at it, possibly clean it. And I'll have to touch you for it, so _cut it_.' he snaps at Derek.

The older man looks like he wants to bite off the hand that's still resting on his shoulder but remains still and follows when Stiles leads him across the hall and into the bathroom.

Stiles tugs lightly on his shoulder and Derek turns, letting Stiles inspect the three long gashes running from his shoulder to his hip, gaping cuts right under the triskele between his shoulder blades. The shirt is ripped open and stiff with dried blood and Stiles takes the scissors out of the first aid kit he had the mind to grab before leaving his room. He moves to cut Derek's shirt open and starts making small soothing noises when Derek flinches away from the touch.

A moment later he's freed of the remnants of his shirt and his wound is laid out in the bright light for inspection by Stiles' careful hands.

The claw marks, Stiles realizes that's what they must be, are oozing a weirdly thick, blueish black liquid, running down Derek's back in slow trails. Holy shit, Stiles realizes and can't help but suck in a sharp breath between his teeth, that's Derek's blood. That's why he's not healing, because whatever got him was poisonous.

Now all Stiles needs to know is what it was and maybe he has an antidote on hand or knows how to mix one from the dried herbs and dubious liquids Deaton gave him at the end of his 'First Aid For Werewolves' crash course. Stiles will have to thank him later and apologize for grumpily interrupting him over and over to tell him that werewolves have _healing abilities_ and he would not be very likely to use these skill, ever.

Except he is.

(He should've known, this is his life after all and nothing ever works out the way he wants it to.)

But right now all that matters is stopping the venom from spreading in Derek's body.

'An incubus,' Derek rasps out as if he knows what Stiles is thinking.

Stiles can work with that, he knows what to do. But-

'Wait, aren't incubi the male versions? Yes,' he adds after a moment of thought. 'They're definitely the male version. And they only go for women.'

'That's why it clawed at me instead of- you know ...' Derek trails off.

'Oh' is all Stiles can say. Then he's ducking down and removing band aids and gauze pads from the first aid kit to reach the vials hidden at the bottom.

He finds one labeled 'pepperwood' and another one full of dried hyssop blossoms and it's rather a long shot but he's learned that if he believes in his work it's far more likely to work so he doesn't think too much about it as he crunches the leaves and flowers up until he has a bowl full of what could pass as dust. On a whim he adds a branch of thyme and then he's closing his eyes, clutching the small bowls tightly and thinking _This will heal Derek. This will clean his blood and keep the venom from spreading. This will heal Derek._

He opens his eyes and finds Derek looking at him over his unharmed shoulder. Stiles rises from where he's still crouched on the bathroom tiles and grabs a towel. He holds it under the stream of water before he turns around facing Derek's back again and begins cleaning the wounds of gravel and dirt.

Once he's finished he takes one of the larger gauze pads and rips it open. The next step involves a lot of scrambling, trying to get the ground herbs onto the gauze without getting further germs on it and Stiles gives up halfway through and just pours the mixture directly onto the gashes, but he manages and then he's taping the gauze to Derek's back. Derek turns around when Stiles lets go of him and Stiles can see the taught lines of his face before Derek's canting over and Stiles has to reach out and steady him so he doesn't fall over and smash his head on the tub. Or smashes the tub, whatever.

'Whoa, there. Take it easy, will you?' Stiles says, breaking the silence that had stretched between them while he worked. 'Come on, you need to sleep.'

By the time they reach Stiles' bedroom the herbs have kicked in and Derek falls face first onto Stiles bed. Stiles goes to untie Derek's shoes and pulls the blanket out from under him to tug him in, leaving his naked back exposed.

By the time he's finished Derek is out like a light, his back rising and falling steadily, his breathing deep.

Stiles sits down at his desk and, dimming his screen as much as possible, goes to Google and types in 'effects of incubus poison'.

He spends the next hour or two clicking through various links and reading through article after article that just get more and more ridiculous. The one thing that almost all of the (reliable) texts agree on is that an incubus' venom leaves the victim longing for physical contact.

That fact is proven true when Derek shifts and turns his head towards where Stiles is sitting, cracks an eye open and grunts something unintelligible.

'Huh?' Stiles stands up, walking over to the bed to understand what Derek's trying to say through the thyme induced haze, but as soon as he get close enough Derek's grabbing his wrist and the next thing he knows he's pressed flush against the other man's side.

Derek, still on his stomach, slides a hand across Stiles' waist to let it rest against the small of his back and presses his face into Stiles neck. Stiles lies there for a moment before he forces himself to relax. This doesn't mean anything, he tells himself as he drapes one arm high over Derek’s uninjured shoulder, angling it so his hand rests against Derek's cheek. This is just the remaining poison in his blood. Still he can't help pressing into Derek's touch, pulling him impossibly closer.

Of course, _that_ is when Erica shows up.

She climbs in through the window and Stiles watches over Derek's back as she straightens up and catches sight of them. He does not want to think about what this must look like to her.

'Oh' she says, her lips curling up in a devious smirk. 'Isaac and I felt Derek's pain and thought he'd gotten hurt.' She looks down at Derek's bandaged back and starts backing away towards the window. 'But obviously you already took care of him,' Her grin grows even wider as she continues, 'so we'll just leave you two alone.'

And with that she's out of the window and gone.

Stiles groans and buries his head in Derek's shoulder. The betas have a far more distinct connection to Derek than the alpha has to them, but he still should have guessed that such a wound would alert them to Derek being wounded.

He will _never_ see the end of their teasing after this, but somehow he can't really find it in himself to care when Derek sighs softly and tightens his grip on Stiles, nuzzling at his neck.

 

 2.

It's two weeks later that Stiles calls Derek in the middle of the night to tell him that the thing in the lake that's been killing people is a fucking _kelpie_ , but when he picks up the phone and Stiles gets around to telling him, all Derek growls is 'I know!'

And then there's the sound of water splashing and Stiles is already scrambling for his hoodie and the car keys when he practically yells into the phone.

'What the hell were you _thinking_?!'

But the line is already dead.

He drives as far as he can into the preserve before he's scrambling out of the car and running the rest of the way to the lake they have centered out as the thing's lair.

The killings had started three days ago and there’s been two victims so far, both little boys. Stiles had gone head over heels into research mode and after only forty eight hours and one particularly disturbing story he had discovered what they were dealing with.

But of course by that time Derek has already gone looking for the kelpie by himself and that's how Stiles finds himself breaking through the last line of trees and out into the open clearing.

He has enough time to register Derek circling the edge of the lake before a movement in the corner of his eye is attracting his attention and he turns his head just in time to see a big black horse plunging towards him.

All the air is knocked from his lungs at the impact and for a moment Stiles is seeing stars. Then he has no more time to become unconscious because despite the fact that he's plastered to it's side the horse keeps running.

And Stiles is still clinging to it when it swerves, digging it's hooves into the ground, and, oh, he read about this. The kelpie's skin, which close up looks more greyish green than black, becomes sticky once the victim is touching it so the thing can carry them into the lake and eat them.

Fuck, he's about to be eaten by a giant horse living in a lake. He really doesn't wanna die like this.

He can hear growling from somewhere behind him, or beside him, it's kind of hard to tell when he's still glued to the freaking thing, and remembers Derek is here to and yeah, this would really be a great time for him to come and save Stiles because as much as he always tells Derek he is _not_ a damsel in distress and definitely doesn't need to be saved, his hands are too sticking to the kelpie's back and he _can't move_.

The kelpie suddenly takes a sharp turn but proceeds towards the lake and Stiles can distinctly see a pair of red eyes glowing in the dark.

Then he can't see anything anymore because the kelpie is plunging into the lake, pulling Stiles down with it. He tries to take one last breath but instead his lungs fill up with water and he just knows he's completely fucked. He's scraped dying so many times and this is the time he's not gonna get away.

He's coughing and trying desperately not to get any more water into his lungs when the temperature of the water hits him and his muscles lock up in shock. It's October and it's the middle of the night and the kelpie is pulling Stiles deeper and deeper and the water is getting colder and colder.

Stiles has just come to terms with the fact that he's gonna die and that it's only a question of how, suffocating, hypothermia or being devoured by a Celtic water demon, when a strong, clawed hand is gripping his forearm and pulling.

For a moment it looks like Derek can pull him back up but then the kelpie gives a mighty tug and down they go. There's no way, Stiles realizes, Derek can separate him from the thing's skin but then he feels Derek's claws at his back and for a moment he thinks Derek is trying to kill him but them his hoodie is floating around him, frayed edges and ripped fabric.

Derek grabs his wrist and gives them one sharp tug and suddenly Stiles' upper body is free and, having understood Derek's train of thought, he scrambles to free himself of his jeans and then Derek is pulling him up and up and Stiles hadn't realized exactly how _deep_ they had been.

Derek is still pulling him up through the icy water when Stiles finally slips into unconsciousness.

 

When he wakes up it's dark around him and he's pressed against- oh _god_ , he's pressed against someone's _chest_! Someone that smells suspiciously like Derek and Stiles is already trying to push away but Derek just pulls him closer, arms wrapped around Stiles like iron bars and growls into his ear.

'You're suffering from hypothermia. Lay still!'

'There's gotta be another way to handle this.' Stiles replies, 'No really, I'm fine.'

Of course that's the moment his teeth start to shudder uncontrollably.

'You're not out of danger yet.' Derek says and after that he's silent.

Stiles concentrates on his surroundings and finds he can lift his head slightly. He catches sight of Derek’s throat and his jaw, but not much else.

Then he realizes he's naked.

'W- Why the he-hell am I _naked-d_?' he sputters through the chattering of his teeth.

'Because you were _dying_.' Derek growls and Stiles looks down at Derek's chest, Derek's naked chest, holy shit!

A phone starts ringing nearby and Derek lets go of him to pull his arm out of the cocoon of blankets they're wrapped up in to grab the device. Stiles gives a whole body shudder at the chilly air hits his skin and can't help but scoot closer to Derek's superhuman body heat.

'Yes?' Derek says into the phone, voice low.

Now that he only has one arm wrapped around him, Stiles can lean back a bit further and risk a look around although he still stays close enough that their fronts are pressed together. (That's also when he notices Derek's still wearing boxers, thank god!)

Stiles is vaguely aware of the fact that Derek is on the phone, talking in a hushed voice, still his tone is urgent and Stiles can hear the worry in his words even when he's too out of it to _actually_ register the words.

Derek is illuminated by a weird orange light and the shadows are flickering restlessly across his face. A fire, Stiles realizes, and then the bits of wall and ceiling he can see make sense as it all falls into place.

And so he's laying on the floor in front of the fireplace in the Hale house, wrapped into what must be all of Derek's blankets with Derek's arms around his shoulders and one of his leg hooked over Stiles' shin, when the betas come bursting through the door.

They stop dead in their tracks when they catch sight of Stiles and their alpha and this is just _great_ , Stiles thinks, they're still teasing him about the post incubus cuddling incident and now _this_.

Stiles tries to pull away again but knows it's no good, Derek holds him close without any troubles at all.

'So, a kelpie?' Boyd finally breaks the silence and then they all break down laughing.

Stiles buries his face in Derek's chest to hide his furious blush and Derek runs a soothing hand down his back which makes him shiver in an entirely different way.

Derek snaps at his pack then, probably telling them to leave, but everything is kind of muted and he's still pressed against Derek's chest, breathing in a scent that is so _Derek_ Stiles finds himself completely infatuated by it.

Derek is suddenly pressing his lips to the top of Stiles' head and Stiles can hear him murmur something.

'Hmm?' he manages to get out.

'I said, go back to sleep, Stiles.' Derek whispers into his ear.

And Stiles does.

 

3.

Two days later Stiles is back in school. The betas take turns in asking Stiles if he's sure he's alright which _yes, he is thank you very much_ and if he needs someone to hug him to warm him up which _fuck off, Erica_.

'Or are you Derek's property now? All rights reserved, eh?' she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at him.

'Fuck off, Erica.' Stiles scoffs again, burying his head in his chemistry book to hide the blush that's staining his cheeks.

'You're repeating yourself, honey.' Lydia chimes in as she slides into the chair across from him, Jackson following behind her.

'So, Stilinski. You and Hale?' he sneers, pulling a chair up from the table next to them.

They're in the library, to _study_ , not to discuss Stiles nonexistent sex life, thank you very much, sitting at a large, circular table. Stiles is wedged in between Isaac and Allison, who is sitting next to Scott. Boyd is lounging in the seat on Isaac's other side and next to him Erica is leaning forward in her chair, a teasing glint in her eyes and her lips curling up in a sharp, predatory smile. Stiles really doesn't know why he keeps hanging out with them, except he does because for all their teasing and snide remarks he knows they mean well. They're just assholes about it. It's probably a werewolf thing, Stiles thinks.

There's a sudden change in the mood when all the werewolves tense up, listening intently to something none of the three humans at the table can hear.

'What?' Stiles asks after what feels like ten years of agonizingly tense silence.

Instead of answering they jump up just a little too fast for human standards, moving like they're one person. Or one pack, Stiles thinks.

They're already halfway through the room when Stiles, Allison and Lydia hurry after them, trying to keep up with the wolves as they make their way down the hall and out onto the lacrosse field.

Stiles thinks he may see one or two of them flexing claws, too out of their mind by whatever they heard to bother about pretense. And wow, this must be _bad_.

The three of them follow the pack as they cross the field, breaking into a run and heading into the trees on the far side, disappearing from view.

'What the _hell_ is going on?' Stiles pants, running after them.

'No idea.' Lydia admits, keeping up with him easily.

'Come on, we better get there quick. I have a bad feeling about this.' Allison, slightly ahead of Stiles, pulls a knife out of her belt and if he weren't currently running at full speed, heading towards what is surely A+ trouble, Stiles would be _seriously_ worried about how not shocked he is by the fact that Allison brought her knife to school.

Knives, he corrects himself as she pulls a shorter one out of her sleeve and a third one, in a truly impressive stunt while never slowing her stride, out of her boot, handing one to him and Lydia each.

Then they reach the trees and a moment later they're skidding to a halt on a clearing. A quick look around at the pack, shifted and snarling, confirms Stiles' fears. They're in trouble, again.

'I think we're complete now.' a cold voice catches Stiles' attention from across the clearing. It belongs to a woman dressed in what looks like a monk's habit made out of purple velvet. And wow, if that isn't fulfilling every bad cliche about witches there's _ever_ been. Derek is standing next to her, caught in a ring of mountain ash. 'So let the show _begin_.' she says, raising her hands and shaking back the wide sleeves. A blast of impossibly bright light erupts from her palms and Stiles yanks his arms up to protect his eyes, scrunching them shut. The light is followed by a series of high tones at the edge of his hearing. He hears the wolves wince and whimper in agony and then it's all over as fast as it's begun.

Stiles finds himself lying on the ground, ears ringing and vision blurred by black spots. He tries to get up but his right side feels unnaturally _heavy_ and he's praying that he hasn't lost a limb or anything when he _feels_ more than hears a growl next to him.

'Get off of me, Stiles!' Derek is snarling, right beside his ear.

Stiles _tries to_ , tries to roll away, but finds he can't. He tells Derek as much who huffs in that way that says _if you were any match to me I would've long ago ripped your throat out for your stupidity_.

Derek shifts at his side and Stiles feels a weird pull at his hip he can't identify. His vision is clearing and then Allison's worried face is coming into view above him. She's worrying her bottom lip and Stiles just _knows_ , knows deep in his guts, that look she's giving him means bad news.

Instead of saying anything she reaches two hands towards him and pulls him up.

When he's back in a vertical position he gets the chance to look around. The witch is gone but everyone seems fine. Well, Erica and Isaac are bent over in silent laughter, Boyd next to them holding them up by their shoulders so they don't actually fall over laughing, but apart from that they're fine.

Derek, Stiles notices next, is standing next to him.

_Really_ close to him, Like, hips touching, shoulders brushing, accidentally stepping on each others feet close.

He tries to step away, takes a little step to the left and Derek stumbles into him, following along.

'What the he-' then he's looking down and ' _Holy fuck!_ ' They're joined at the hip.

That stupid fricking witch _glued them together at the hip_.

He looks around at the rest of them and yeah, they're all fine. It's just Derek and him that got the Siamese twins treatment.

Derek's been suspiciously silent during Stiles internal freak out and he risks a cautious glance at his face. Derek is glowering at Jackson who's not even trying to restrain his laughter and Derek growls but can't do any more than that because he's still got Stiles attached to his hip.

'This has _got_ to be the best spell I've ever seen.' Jackson is wheezing and Derek just glowers at the pack, daring them to join Jackson.

It takes Lydia three whole awkward, tension filled days to find the counter spell.

 

4.

The fourth time it happens, and wow, when did that become a thing that happened _repeatedly_ in his life, is in the super market in the cereal aisle.

He hears a cough and feet shuffling on the ground and when he looks up there's Scott, standing at the end of the aisle. He's blushing, so is Scott, and trying to scramble out of Derek's arms.

Thing is, he's still hanging only a foot or so above the tiles with Derek's arms being the only thing preventing his ass from making contact with the cold, hard floor.

Derek catches the clue and helps Stiles by pulling him up, but he doesn't let go of his forearm once he's put Stiles back on his own two feet and he's _staring_ at him.

It's kind of intense.

And hot.

Not the time, Stiles. _Definitely_ not the time.

'Hey,' he says in lieu of having anything better to say. It's awkward, painfully so. He could probably cut the awkward out of the air, that's how thick it is.

'Hey,' Scott replies, still looking incredibly uncomfortable and like he would rather be _anywhere_ but here.

Derek doesn't say anything because he is Derek.

He doesn't stop staring though.

A tiny part of Stiles kind of doesn't want him to. A rather large part, actually. Ok, _all_ of him.

But he would much rather prefer it if Scott were _not_ here to witness this. Because Scott is going to mention it to Allison who's going to tell Lydia and then the rest of the pack will know and he _still_ hasn't lived down the embarrassment of being bound to Derek for three days, or the post kelpie cuddling, or the post incubus incident for that matter. Does not think he will ever live it down, either.

A person, Stiles thinks, has thought a lot of times since he got involved in the supernatural, should only have to face that much humiliation and near-death experiences and Stiles is pretty sure he's had his fill for this lifetime.

But maybe it's karma, maybe Stiles has done something horrible in one of his past lives and is punished for it now, which, unfair. He can't even remember it and is still being punished for it? Or maybe the universe just plain out hates him, or certain werewolves do.

'I slipped.' Stiles says, realizing belatedly the way the silence has stretched _way_ beyond uncomfortable by now. 'And Derek here caught me just in time. They should really put up 'wet floor' signs.' Stiles laughs. It's an awkward, slightly maniac laugh.

'No one else is as clumsy as you.' Derek grumbles into his ear. _Right_ into his ear.

He's standing far too close for Stiles' liking. Well no, but far too close to be considered appropriate. They are in a public goddamned place, for fuck's sake.

There's some more shuffling at the end of the aisle and when Stiles pries his eyes away from Derek's face, Scott is gone.

Derek's breath, fanning warm across his cheek, demands his attention and when he turns his head back around he's looking straight into Derek's eyes, he can't see anything else beyond that because Derek is so _close_. Uncomfortably so.

Well, uncomfortable because it has suddenly become _real_ hard for Stiles to hide his boner with the way Derek is all up in his personal space, in a way that _nothing_ about this situation can justify.

And then Derek is leaning in and for a moment Stiles thinks he's going to kiss him but Derek tilts his head down and goes for his neck instead nuzzling there and-

'Dude, are you _scenting_ me?' Stiles flails a bit, quite a bit, and makes to push Derek away. Derek lets him, because let's face it, Stiles couldn't move Derek an inch, the man's a fucking brick wall, but not before he's gotten in a good sniff of eau de Stiles.

'Men do _not_ smell other men in public.' Stiles exclaims, holding his hands up in front of his chest defiantly. Derek is still standing somewhat closer to him than normal but at least Stiles can breathe without smelling Derek's deodorant and his leather jacket and _Derek_ with every inhale.

It helps clear his mind. And willing his boner to go away.

'I'm not.' Derek says and Stiles can't _believe_ it, can't believe what he's hearing.

'Smelling me? Of _course_ you were-'

'A _man_.' Derek says, 'I'm not a _man_.'

'Are you going for the _I'm a werewolf and this is my instinct_ excuse?' Stiles flails a bit more. 'Because I can tell you, _Scott_ doesn't to the scenting thing.'

'I'm the alpha.' Derek says, turning away.

'What does that ha-' but Derek is already gone.

It's when Stiles is putting his stuff into the trunk of the jeep that he realizes his misconception.

Scott _does_ the scenting thing. With _Allison_.

 

1.

That very same evening when Stiles trudges up the stairs after dinner, his father watching a baseball game on the TV downstairs, and slips into his room Derek is there, waiting for him. He's sitting on Stiles' bed, propped up against the headboard, his ankles crossed and looking utterly at ease.

'Hey,' he says casually, looking up as Stiles enters the room, as if it's _totally_ normal for a grown man to lounge in a teenager's bedroom at night.

'Hey Derek.' Stiles replies, 'Is something wrong?' he adds cautiously.

Derek furrows his brows, confusion and suspicion seeping into the lines around his mouth. 'Why?' he asks.

'Because you usually only come around when someone is dead or dying, hurt or about to get hurt.' Stiles replies, nonplussed by Derek's stare.

'Can't I just come around?' Derek's face is carefully blank when he asks the question as if Stiles answer is important but Derek doesn't want him to know that it is affecting him.

'Oh don't tell me you turned into Chatty Cathy all of a sudden.' he jokes. Stiles has never really been good with serious moments and he tends to flee to sarcasm and jokes to avoid them. But Derek is not that easy to deter.

In the blink of an eye he's standing in front of Stiles, looming and if it wasn't so _hot_ Stiles would be scared shitless, but well, it's pretty damn hot and he focuses all his thoughts on _puppies, rainbows, Dad, naked feet, dirty dishes-_

And then his brain is empty because Derek's _mouth_ is on _his_ and Derek is gripping his hip and his other hand is angling Stiles head just so.

Stiles is caught completely off guard, frozen on the spot, unmoving and he tells himself that he should react, should do _something_ but he can't get his brain to work because _Derek Hale is kissing him, holy shit_.

But then Derek is pulling away and he's looking at Stiles with that horrible mix of embarrassment, sadness and rejection on his face and Stiles wants nothing more than to _never_ see that look on his face again and also to feel Derek's lips on his again, but Derek is already pulling away and turning towards the window.

Stiles grabs the sleeve of his shirt and clings onto it as if his life depends on it, forcing Derek to turn back towards him and, instead of trying to tug Derek back towards him, he takes a big step right into Derek's personal space.

He grabs Derek's chin, still holding onto his sleeve in case he decides to try to make a run for it, and brings their faces together, stopping when their mouths are mere inches apart, breathing each others air.

They look at each other for a few, long moments before Derek pushes forward and closes the last distance between them.

This time Stiles is ready though, and when Derek presses their mouths together in a sweet, almost chaste kiss he angles his head and swipes his tongue over Derek's bottom lip. It's just the briefest contact but it elicits the most _delicious_ groan from Derek so he does it again.

And _again_. And this time Derek opens his mouths, lets Stiles lick inside and licks into Stiles mouth in return.

It's so _hot_ and so much better than anything he could have made up, so much more vivid than any of his fantasies, that, with a strangled moan, Stiles comes in his pants right then and there.

Derek pulls back to look at him, a little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, humor glinting in his eyes.

'What,' Stiles says, admittedly breathless, 'I'm a _teenager_. And a virgin.' he adds, looking down and blushing a deep red.

Derek doesn't seem to care though, judging by the way he just chuckles silently and ducks down to kiss along Stiles' jaw and down his neck.

As much as Stiles enjoys having a furiously hot werewolf sucking hickeys onto the skin of his neck, he can feel the cum drying in his boxers and it's starting to chafe. He shifts, trying to adjusts himself and Derek takes his mouth from Stiles' collarbone to say, 'Take your pants off.'

Stiles whimpers at the loss of contact but is quick to follow Derek's words, Derek turns around and crosses his room, opening his drawer and throwing him a fresh pair of boxers. Stiles catches it and then looks from the clothing in his hand up at Derek.

' _Seriously?_ ' he asks, incredulously.

Derek just raises an eyebrow at him and the look he gives Stiles makes his stomach flip.

'As I said, I'm a teenager. And if you keep looking at me like _that_ I'm gonna come in my pants for the second time in less than fifteen minutes.'

Derek just scoffs at that, turning away and starts to pull his shirt over his head. 'Just change, Stiles.' he says, still with his back to him as he pulls down his jeans revealing black boxer briefs.

So Stiles does and when he looks back up Derek is standing in front of him in nothing but his boxers and Stiles can't help but stare. Derek just chuckles again but Stiles doesn't miss the way his eyes sweep over Stiles body and he suddenly feels utterly self conscious until he sees the appreciative smile on Derek's face and the way his pupils are slightly dilated.

Derek grabs his hand and pulls Stiles towards the bed, tugging him against his chest. Who would have thought _Derek Hale_ was a cuddler?

'Why do _you_ get to be the big spoon?'

'Because _you_ got the orgasm.' Derek replies dryly and Stiles can't help but laugh.

'Hey don't do that! Don't be funny when no one else is around.' he adds at Derek's questioning silence, and _wow_ , when did he learn to read into the guy's silence?

They lie there, comfortably warm, Derek's hand stroking up and down Stiles' arm until Stiles can't hold it in anymore.

'So, you have a thing for me?'

'Stiles!' Derek groans. 'Just, _one time_.'

'But-' he starts up again but doesn't get anything else out before Derek's hand is covering his mouth, firm and warm.

'Just go to sleep.' he whispers into his ear and Stiles can feel Derek's breath ghosting over his skin.

So this is his life, incubi, kelpies, witches and, apparently now, cuddling with werewolves.

Stiles isn't going to complain about that last part.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I'm looking for a beta, so if any of you are interested hmu maybe, or don't.


End file.
